


Behind the Mask

by orphan_account



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: AE, F/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Possessive Behavior, WIP, im honestly just adding tags as i go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 04:56:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11306112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Be good to him and he'll be good to you, be bad to him..."Alternative ending to The Boy, if Greta had stayed.*slow updates*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i recently watched The Boy for the first time and completely fell in love, so here's my try at writing the ending i wish had happened.

'They're closed.'

Coming to a stop in front of the large iron gates, that's the only thought in her head. 'The gates are closed.'

Her breathing is rough and her chest heaves as she gasps for air. Sweat lowly trickles down her neck, trailing down towards her back but she doesn't notice. The adrenaline is making her head foggy and her heart race and it almost feels like too much as her head spins and she feels sick. 

'Can I climb over?' She takes a step forward, almost stumbling, but stops and tilts her head to stare at the top of the spiked gates. 'No,' and she quickly whips around to stare down the long, winding driveway.

'But Malcolm slept in his car, it'd still be there!'  
She takes a step forward, and stops. Does she really want to go back there? To him? Looking back to the gates, she considered just going for it, just climbing the gates and making a run for it. But there's really too many risks. She's never been past the gates, and the thought of guessing her way to the nearest town in the middle of the night frustrates her enough to let loose a growl. Raising her hands to her face, she leans forward and buries her face in her hands. Tears and dirt mixing and she lets loose a quiet sob. 

"No. Malcom." She can't leave him. Not after everything he's done for her. Not after everything they've been through. She rubs her hands on her cheeks, scrubbing away the tears and the hopelessness she feels inside. She will not leave without him. Without a second thought she races into the darkness, back towards the house.

Back towards him.

 

...

 

Slowly making her way up the steps, she wraps her arms around herself and attempts to steady her breathing. Her heart is pounding and it's all she hears. Where will he be? Waiting for her just inside the door? Behind a wall watching her, like he had for so long? Or worse, will he be back with Malcolm? She clenches her jaw, straightens her back and places her hand on the doorknob. 'Remember the plan.'

The long run had given her time to think. When she ignored the rules he stole her things and locked her in the attic. When she followed them, he returned them and left her be. Even after all the events that had taken place, he pleaded for her to stay and had promised to be a good boy. So did he still want her as his nanny? If so, then he'd listen to her. He had to, everything depended on it.

And with that thought, she opened the door and stepped into the house.

Peering in, she didn't immediately see him, and she held her breath to listen more carefully. Nothing. Closing the door carefully, she stepped inside and immediately went for the small dresser in the hallway. The week before she had seen a long screwdriver in there while she was searching for batteries. Glancing around the dark house, she quickly opened the drawer and rummaged around, shifting and moving things as quickly as she could before he heard her. Finally her hand hit metal and she grasped it tightly, pulling it out and glancing at it for just a second, before shoving the drawer shut. She held it in her left hand, just behind her should he appear before her. A bright light shone from the only open door in the hallway and taking deep breaths she walked as calmly as she could towards it.

Sucking in a big lungful of air, she held her breath as she peered into the door. It was just as she left it.

The doll lay on the floor, its porcelain head shattered into millions of pieces. The mirror had a huge gaping hole, fragments of it scattered across the room. And Cole lay perfectly still on the now deep brownish rug. A piece of porcelain still inside his bleeding neck.  
She released the breath she had been holding shakily and her knees felt weak. Suddenly, she felt a pair of eyes piercing through her and she turned to face the end of the hallway. The light through the doorway filled the dark hall, but it wasn't enough to reach him. Standing under the window, the moon provided just enough light for her to see his tall silhouette, and her breath felt stuck in her throat. Slowly, to not draw is attention, she slid the screwdriver into her back pocket.

"I came back for you, Brahms."  
Her voice was steady and loud, but she felt anything but. And slowly, he started towards her, his heavy breathing seemingly louder through the mask.  
"I told you I wouldn't leave you, and I didn't. Did I?"  
He only stopped once there was not even an inch of space between them, and leaned in closer, smelling her hair.  
Her heart sped up and she started trembling,  
"I told you I wouldn't."  
She didn't expect anything in particular from him, but some space would be nice. His heavy breathing and closeness were making her nervous.  
Clenching her fist she shouted, "BRAHMS!" And he jolted back as if shocked.  
She made eye contact and steeled her voice.  
"It's time for bed now." His eyes never moved from hers and he tilted his head.  
"Brahms. I said it's time for bed, let's go."  
And with that's she turned and walked down the hall, 'please, please, please listen to me!'

Not hearing his footsteps she stopped and turned to watch him, he was still standing where she had left him. His eyes firmly fixed on her. Taking a deep breath she tried again. "You know the rules."  
For a second no one moved, and no one made a sound. Then he slowly started towards her, past her, then up the stairs. He was leading her to his room, 'no, the dolls room,' knowing she would follow. 

Reaching the room he stepped in first and she stopped to turn on the light. Glancing to his fist, he tightly held onto the stick used for bringing down the attic stairs and her nervousness grew. 'Will he willingly put it down?' She couldn't force him to if he chose not to, but he was listening to her so far so it was worth a shot. "Put that down now, Brahms,"

Just as he had before, he waited a second then slowly reached down to place it on the chest that rested by the foot of the bed. 'Thank you.' She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding once his hand left it on the chest. Walking past him to the bed, his eyes never left the weapon as she pulled back the covers. "Ready for bed?" He turned to her, and nodded. He was watching her carefully. He made his way to the bed, taking his time then slowly laid down. He never took his eyes off her while she leaned over him to pull the blankets back up, tucking him in.  
"Be a good boy Brahmsy, go straight to sleep, okay?"  
She was still leaning over him, and his eyes drilled holes into hers, neither one ending their staring contest first. Finally, in that voice he asked, "Kiss?" She breaths carefully and shakes her head.  
"No kiss tonight, Brahms." His head tilts and his eyes dart frantically over her face.  
"It's your punishment, I'm sorry." He's not going to like this, she thought and she smiled at him, trying to soften the blow. He didn't move and didn't blink, till she moved to walk away. Suddenly his hand wrapped around her wrist and jerked her back. 

Turning back to him, he was sitting up and slowly increasing pressure on her wrist. "Kiss."  
He said again, more firmly, in that child-like voice.  
Knowing he wouldn't let her leave, she leaned back over him and he moved with her, settling back in. Once his head hit the pillows his hands slid up her arms to firmly grasp her shoulders to bring her in closer. 'Just a quick one. This is no different than before. You're not actually kissing him, just the mask.' And with that thought she swoops in for a quick peck on the corner of the mouth but in an instant his grip tightens and he moves so her lips connect with the mask's. Trying to move back he follows her and tilts his head like he was trying to deepen the kiss despite the mask. Placing a hand on his chest to push him away his right hand twists itself in her hair and he crushes her too him. 

She struggles more as he tightens her grip, and it feels like he was starting to pull her onto the bed. Panic fills her and she tries screaming but the mask smothers any sound, suddenly she remembered. 

'THE SCREWDRIVER!' With the hand not on his chest she reaches behind her to grasp it, and with one motion she drives it towards his stomach. But at the last second his arm releases its grip on her shoulders and grabs her hand with its death grip still on the screwdriver. Just as quickly he tightens his grip in her hair, shoves her head away from him and rips the screwdriver away from her, throwing it to the other side of the room. 

Silence falls over them as she silently cries and grabs the hand still in her hair, as he is now sitting up and staring at her, his other hand laying limp in his lap. He takes a deep breath and moves her head to face him and his eyes are narrowed beneath the mask.  
"Why would you do that, pretty Greta? You tried to hurt me!" His voice breaks and cracks, shifting from child-like to the deep baritones of a man as he talks.  
"I'm s-sorry!" She cries and he just stares. Finally he slowly releases his grip on her hair. 

"It's bedtime Greta."

She shuffles on her feet and rubs her hands on her jeans. "I know I'm sorry, would you like me to tuck you back in?" He says nothing but stares, and for a second she thinks that's all he's going to do. 

"No." This time it's a deep, growly voice that he uses. And she wants nothing more than to be out of this room. "O-okay." Slowly, she starts backing out of the room and he just sits there, watching her. When she reaches the door she places a hand on the doorknob and tries for a smile, but she's positive it comes out more as a grimace. "Goodnight, Brahms."  
With that she turns off the light and closes the door.  
She takes a moment to catch her breath, and rests her back against the door. The house is quiet except for her ragged breathing, and a small voice calls out.  
"Good night... my Greta."

And she breaks out into loud sobs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowza i did not mean for this to be posted as late as it is but i've been struggling to finish writing this chapter bc i've been distracted lately bc my mom's having neck surgery in august and one of our dogs just had puppies (that puts us at 16 dogs holy shit) and yeah, sorry 'bout that.
> 
> but i was seriously not expecting to get so many hits so soon and thank u so much to everyone who left kudos! <3  
> i also got my first two comments which was pretty exciting. 
> 
> so just thank you to everyone, your support means the world to me. :D

"Goodnight, my Greta."

She slowly shut the door and as soon as he heard the soft 'click' it was immediately followed by a thud and he assumed she was resting her back against the door and crying. 

His jaw clinched, he didn't enjoy hearing her cry, but she was always so emotional, his Greta.

He laid in the too small bed— the dolls bed — just listening to her cry. But he knew that if he didn't move soon she'd go back to him, and he couldn't have that. He'd tried to take her from him, and that simply wouldn't do.

Rising from the bed he pulled the blankets up and took his time putting the bed back in order. He still wasn't sure what to do with the man behind the walls or the one stinking up the room downstairs.

He was still coming to terms with Greta seeing the real him. 

Obviously he was planning on showing himself at some point, but no one had seen the real him in twenty years. At least no one that lived to tell about it.

Moving on from the nearly made bed, he grabbed the attic stick and moved to the hidden door behind one of the panels in the wall. Stepping through he navigated his way to the unconscious man before Greta could. 

He wasn't happy that the two of them had found his room, he'd have a talk with Greta at a later point about snooping through his things. But for now he needed to focus on what to do with the bodies.

Reaching the bottom he continued through the twists and turns till he eventually found him. The man was still unconscious and with a quiet snarl he jerked the man up, and over his shoulder and turned to the small door his Greta previously tried to leave from. While his Greta couldn't open it, a swift kick from him had the door swinging open and he quickly went through it, closing it behind him quietly. 

It wouldn't do to have his Greta hear what he was up to.

He was still for a moment, weighing his options.   
He knew his Greta would be greatly upset with him, should he kill the delivery man. She had grown a bit too fond of him, which is why the man had to go.

Scanning the trees and brush around him an idea formed. There was a hiking trail a good ways from the house, through the woods. He could place him there, eventually some hikers would find him and he'd be out of his hands once in for all. 

Adjusting his grip, he made for the woods.  
Hopefully Greta would behave till he got back. 

He'd hate to have to punish her.

 

—

 

Back at the house, Greta was trapped.

After she had tucked Brahms into bed she had had to take a moment for her brain to catch up on everything that had occurred. And she ended up on the floor outside Brahms' room crying her eyes out. 

She wasn't sure how long she had sat there, but eventually picked herself up and made for the parlor room. She could smell Cole's body but after taking a moment to calm herself, she proceeded through the wall and into the darkness. 

In all honestly she hadn't even been sure if Malcolm was still there, but she prayed he was. Unfortunately, at this rate she'd never know. Somewhere along the way she had taken a wrong turn and as far as she could guess she was maybe somewhere in the basement. 

It was pitch black and she kept one hand on the wall at all times to help ground her as she tried to get out. At this point it wasn't about finding her friend, but escaping the seemingly never ending darkness. The old house creaked and groaned as she crept behind the walls and she couldn't help but let the occasional whimper slip out.

She wasn't even sure how long she'd been down there, wondering helplessly in the dark. But the lateness of the night and the event of the day were starting to catch up to her, and her foot stumbling across an uneven board had her tumbling to the ground. 

She couldn't see anything and she blindly threw hands out to catch herself, but she must've been at the start of a turn in the tunnel because while her hands braced her body from hitting the floor the didn't stop her head from bashing against the new wall ahead of her. 

"Damn!"

Moving to a kneel she gently pressed a hand against her forehead and immediately jerked it away with a low hiss as pain filled her head from the wound. Rubbing her fingers she could feel blood coating them and using her other hand to find the offending wall, she turned and sat against it. 

Bending her legs she she could fold her arms on her knees she took slow breaths and closed her eyes. Tilting her head back, she gently rested the back of her head against the wall. She knew Brahms wouldn't be happy when he can't find her in the morning, but facing the facts, she knew she was stuck. 

She also knew she probably should at least attempt to stay awake with what could be a concussion, but she found she didn't care. And with that final thought she took a deep breath and slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

 

—

 

Walking in through the front door, Brahms pushed it shut with his foot and wiped his hands over his shirt.

Glancing at the clock —it reads 4:27— and he first heads to the kitchen to clean up. After taking care of the grocery man, he had buried the other body. 

He hadn't heard even a peep from his Greta, so he assumed she went to bed. 

Washing his hands in the sink, he turned off the faucet and turned around to lean his back against the sink. Taking a deep breath, he began to think.

He had taken care of the bodies, that was the most important thing. Bringing a hand up to his face, he felt the dirt and blood dried onto his mask and his fingers grazed over his beard. Next thing would be to groom himself for his Greta. He knew she was a bit unsettled by his appearance, but he was understanding and knew she would come to love this him. 

Clearing his throat, he pushed off the sink and made for his parents bathroom. He knew his father had razors he could use, and he wanted to be presentable for his Greta by the time she woke up.

Taking the stairs two at a time he quietly walked through the hallway to the bathroom. 

It wouldn't do to wake his Greta, she really needed her sleep after such an exciting day. He himself was still buzzing with adrenaline.

Reaching his destination, he started rummaging through the drawers to find some scissors and razors. Finally, the middle drawer on the right held the items he was searching for, and he quickly grabbed them and placed them beside the sink. 

Bracing his hands on the counter, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The only sound in the quiet house was his heavy breathing and he closed his eyes, gathering the courage to remove the mask.

Curling his right hand into a fist, he slammed it against the counter and ripped the porcelain mask from his face. 

He already was starting to feel vulnerable without it, but taking a deep breath, he started on the beard.

Drying his newly cleaned mask he placed it back on his face and wiped the counter off. 

Throwing the cloth he used onto the floor he left the room and made for his room behind the walls. He needed to change his clothes, there was still blood and grime covering him from chasing after Greta and the man.

Exiting the bathroom adjoined to his parents room he moved their dresser and slipped into his shortcut, and pulled the dresser back into place. 

It only took him a few minutes to reach his room, and he immediately went to his small dresser and began pulling out clothes. 

Throwing the ones he had chosen into the bed, he started stripping the dirty ones off his body. After each article of clothing was pulled off his body he casually tossed them behind him, he would move them another time. Right now he could only think about putting on some clean clothes and going to his Greta.

Ones he was completely stripped he began donning the new clothes. 

He had chosen a pair of black slacks, a long sleeved button up, and some suspenders. 

Clipping the dark suspenders into place, he smoothed a hand down his front and with his opposite hand ruffling his hair, he was finally presentable for Greta. 

Leaving his room, he started through the tunnels and made for the secret door to the hallway. While a part of him wanted to use the door in Greta's closet, he knew she liked her space, so he instead would only use that door for emergencies. 

Pushing the door open, he stepped into the dark hallway and gently closed it behind him. His Greta's room was just down the hall and he turned on his heel and made for her door.

Standing in front of the closed door, he took a moment to obsessively straighten his appearance.

Everything had to be perfect for his Greta.

Nodding in satisfaction he raised a hand and turned the knob. To his surprise it opened without hesitation and he was delighted his Greta wouldn't try to lock him out.

She knew better.

With that he opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks. 

Where was his Greta?

Shoving the door open all the way he observed the room fully, the bathroom was dark and the closet door was opened so he knew she wasn't in either room.

With a low growl he stormed out of the room and moved directly to the doll's, perhaps she had gone their to him but when she found him missing she decided to wait for him?

Peeking into the room, the lack of her presence sent a burning anger through him.

Slamming the door shut he raced through the house, using his shortcuts and checking every room. 

His Greta was gone.


End file.
